Bloodfly
by teh spikey
Summary: The tragic romance between a Toreador with too much humanity, and Heather Poe. Follows key moments in Bloodlines from Heather's point of view.
1. Chapter 1

Author's opening notes

This story has been bugging me for years. Ever since I first played VTM: Bloodlines, I wanted to fill the gaps in the relationship between Heather and my Toreador character, and I really wanted to get inside Heather's head. I also wanted to add specific details which isn't explicitly shown in the game, details about Vampires and how they work in the World of Darkness, according to the rules of the pen and paper game. This particular part I wrote a few years ago, along with another, longer chapter shortly after. I had intended to work on it more but lack of reader interest and busy life got in the way.

After signing up here recently, however, I figured it might be a good way to get me back into it. I'm proud of the idea at least, so I want to try and finish it. Apologies in advance for any errors, I've cleaned it up as much as I can see.

I've given the high rating more due to future chapters, this one's relatively tame. Just in case it's not obvious, this story will contain _**FEMSLASH**_, so if that's not your thing you may not want to continue.

Anyway, enough of my blather. Here you go.

* * *

**Bloodfly**

I'm not sure how it started. Everything before the... "experience" that night is a haze of pain and blood, like I'm looking through frosted red glass. What I did was stupid, I know that now of course. But then again, if I hadn't have done it, I would never have met her, so I don't really regret it. I guess that says something about me.

I don't remember getting to the hospital, nor do I remember much of being there before she came. I was probably delirious, and I have vague memories of being upset that my... plans were interrupted, but the pain was becoming unbearable. It was like an anchor, keeping me from truly drifting away. I'll admit I wanted to die, but that's not unusual for the situation I guess.

I'm being vague, I know. I can't help it, my memory before it happened is still fuzzy, but after, it's like it's burned into my brain. One minute, I was suffering and barely coherent... But the next; something pressed against my lips, and a voice urged me to drink. It was thick and warm - like soup - but better than any soup I'd ever tasted before. It slithered down my throat like it was alive, and my head swam with a wash of emotion. It awoke something sensual in me, all my senses tuned in to this new feeling unlike any I had ever experienced. The only thing I can compare it to is like really, really good sex, but it's still an imperfect comparison. Like a dream, I was swept away in a raging torrent, but there was someone there with me. A woman, the most beautiful I'd ever seen, with reddish brown hair and the eyes of a predator. She was holding me, comforting me, and I remember that I relaxed as my pain faded away. All the while she was whispering to me, keeping me safe, and I _knew_ her. She was concerned for me, I felt this overwhelming compassion that could only be from her. Hell, I knew her more than I knew myself.

Then it was gone. An instant was all it was, a moment of bliss, and then it was over. There was no more pain. I felt wearied, but good, like after an orgasm. Yeah, again with the sex, but I really can't explain it another way. But at the time, that confused me, as I started to become aware of where I was. Gurney, drab paint, a pile of sad looking blankets in the corner, _"ICA MEDICAL CLINI"_ visible in blue along the top blanket. I'm in the middle of a medical clinic? And I think I just had an orgasm? I started to become afraid to look around, in case I glimpsed some leering pervert who'd molested me.

But I had to know what was going on. I could still feel that eerie yet comforting presence within me, something must be able to explain that... Maybe I was just tripping out on morphine, though I couldn't feel the telltale numbness. Curiosity got the better of me, so I raised my head, and looked into the face of an angel.

Well, not really of course. But that's how it seemed. I was still weary and groggy, and when I looked at the figure that stood over me, the light from the hallway shone right behind her head, lighting her brown-red hair like fire. Like a halo.

Her lips moved, and I only blinked at her in my confusion. She asked again if I was all right, and I finally found my voice. I started to realise as I looked into her eyes, her face shared the face of the beautiful woman from my strange hallucination... dream... _thing_. I asked her what she did to me, and she said she only wanted to help. I blurted my feelings, the ones residual from the hallucination, that I felt like I knew her, and her face changed. Like she was worried over what I'd said. She said I should forget her, and go about my life, and she left, quiet as a whisper.

I was so weary, and so relieved to be free of pain, that I just went to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N – Sorry about the delay. This needed some heavy reworking, and my classes have gotten pretty busy. It's the last of the pre-written stuff, so the next will take a while before it's up.

* * *

Everything in my life changed after that night.

From the moment I started to wake up, I knew something was different. I _felt_ different. For a weird moment I thought I had died, and was in some higher plane. I had childish visions of lounging around on fluffy clouds, blissfully content. Yeah, I know how stupid that sounds. I'd blame the drugs, but I don't think anyone actually got around to giving me any.

That's kinda what it was like, though. I felt like I was on drugs, I had to be. I felt... _alive_. I hadn't felt like that in months, maybe years even. I was just numb, everything around me, my life, the day to day stuff you do to get by had just been a chore for me, I felt no real reason to care. I couldn't understand the point to it all, drove a lot of people away and shut myself off from the world. Now that I think about it, it's pretty remarkable that I ended up in the hospital really. I never did find out who found me, or brought me there.

But it was all different from the time I woke up. I felt like my senses were amplified, as if I'd stripped away some protective layer of cotton wool, and now I could see and feel things as they truly were. Someone must have had flowers in the next room, or in the waiting room. I could smell it past the disinfectant and it made me smile, thinking people cared enough about each other to get them. The coarse grain of the hospital sheet on my skin was uncomfortable, but refreshing because _I noticed it_. With every breath I felt this vibrancy and excitement I couldn't explain, and a burning need that surprised me.

I couldn't get the woman out of my mind. I closed my eyes, and would see her face, her hair, and her beautiful, captivating eyes. I had to find her. I had to see her again. I've never felt that way about a woman before. Obsessed almost. A few guys yeah, when I was young, but never women. It didn't strike me as strange though, I just had to act.

When I felt well enough to move, which wasn't long, I got up and started asking around. The damn doctors and nurses didn't even recognise me. I wondered how long I would have lay there if she hadn't have come along.

One of the doctors – a big guy with dreadlocks, his name tag said Malcolm – was muttering about something, and when I described her to him, I could see in his face he knew exactly who I was talking about. He just swore though, and wouldn't tell me anything.

I knew his type. They act tough but they're a sucker for a sob story from a pretty face. I made up a story that she was a friend that I had come to stay with, but didn't know where she lived. He looked again at my bloodstained clothes and arms, and I let him form his own conclusions. Playing to his assumptions, I acted the desperate waif, on the run from an abusive relationship. Some guys have a weak spot for the ones they think they can save.

Eventually, between his cursing and his threats, I managed to gather that she had extorted him somehow, blackmailed him after hacking in to his private email. He was also missing some morphine, which he also suspected was her doing. He tried to warn me away, telling me she was probably just as bad, if not worse, than whoever I was running from, but I didn't listen. I knew her better than that, or thought I did. It never occurred to me how absurd that notion was.

He told me he'd left the money she wanted in a letterbox, at the apartments across the road, above the pawn shop. My heart skipped a few beats. Could it really be that easy?

Apparently not. I went to the apartment in question, knocking on the door, but there was no answer. I tried not to let my disappointment crush me – it was unreasonable, surely. She was out. Or she was sleeping, or something.

Either that, or I was being a complete idiot chasing after a drug induced hallucination.

No. She was real, she had to be. She was there. Doctor Malcolm had seen her too. And I couldn't help it. I still felt her, like she was... inside me. I know how that sounds, I'm not going on about sex again. It was like she was physically under my skin, swimming through my veins. Like there had been a hole inside me, in my chest, and she had filled it with a warmth, a sensation that was all her own.

I needed to find her, to know what she did to me, to repay her for saving me.

I asked around some more. She got around this little beach town, that's for sure. The stoned and paranoid guy in the pawn shop. The woman that ran the diner. The sobbing security guard by the gallery – that was a circus. That Kilpatrick guy in the bail bonds place. A whole bunch of people in that club, Asylum: the bartender, some waspy redhead near the bar, this unbelievably annoying guy who called himself Knox. Everyone had seen her, most got that misty far eyed look when they talked about her. Seemed she had everyone thinking they were her special thing, for whatever reason. I wondered where I fit in this crowd of misty eyed fools. I felt this weird jealous competitiveness, like if anyone was her special thing, it had to be me, right? I mean, she saved my life, right? That's gotta mean something.

Someone, somewhere, I can't really remember who, mentioned a name: Mercurio. They said if I wanted to find her, that he'd know best. I followed the trail of blood to one of those swanky apartments, and found him in a morphine haze on his couch. Something clicked in my mind.

"That's why she took the morphine from Dr Malcolm…"

"Eh?" The guy lifted his head, his eyes cloudy. God, he was a mess. I surprised myself by not grimacing at his injuries. That was me before she found me, after all, only a few hours, maybe days, ago. I wondered then, what it was about me, that she had helped me and not him.

"Who th' hell are you?" His blood smeared brow furrowed, and I dragged myself out of my thoughts.

"My... My name is Heather. Heather Poe. I'm, looking for someone. I was told you could help me."

"Look lady, I'm not exactly in the position to help anyone. If you hadn't noticed I'm leaking all over this damn couch, so if you could kindly fuck off, I'd like to..."

I cut him off. "No please, wait! Just listen... She's tall, with short, red-brown hair, and... really pale skin. She carries herself like she cares about how she looks and her eyes..." I lost myself thinking how to describe them, like they mesmerised me even in memory. He'd gone quiet, and was watching me with a strange look on his mangled face.

"Her eyes are... Intense." I trailed off, feeling stupid.

He had a knowing look, but he didn't say anything, just watched me stand there and fidget.

"Please, I was told you know her... And how I could find her..."

"Why do you want to find her?" His question felt weighted, and all trace of the morphine haze was gone from his bloodshot eyes.

"I... She..." I was flustered. I didn't really know myself, and somehow I knew he wouldn't buy the same story as the rest. "She helped me, somehow." I plucked at my shirt, the bloodstains now making it dry and stiff. "This is my blood. I was hurt, and she gave me something that... fixed me. I want to find her, to try and repay her. She saved my life..."

He took a deep breath, and then winced as he started to cough. I waited for him to recover, my heart in my hands. When he was breathing normally again, he looked at me, some sad kind of understanding in his eyes.

"Ahh, what the hell. It's not like they're my rules to follow."

I blinked at him, not understanding.

"Go into the city." He said finally. "Find the Ventrue Tower. I don't know where she is now, but if you wait there, she'll show up eventually."

I started blubbering like some excited schoolgirl, thanking him over and over, making an ass of myself, more than usual. He grumbled and swore at me again, saying I could thank him by letting him leak in peace. I turned to go, but I remembered one last thing I had to know.

"Oh, one more thing, she didn't tell me. What's her name?"

He paused with a pill bottle half-way to his mouth, and gave me a long look. I felt like a kid again, being looked down on by the teachers for asking "irrelevant" questions. Eventually, he upended the pill bottle, winced while he dry swallowed, and then sighed as he lowered himself to his bloodied couch again.

"Selene. Her name is Selene."

I left, deciding I needed to find some new clothes, or wash these bloodied ones, before I looked for a cab to the city. All the while, at the back of my mind was bouncing around that name, like the tolling of a bell. Selene.

I had the biggest cheesy grin on my face, as I headed for the street. I felt a bit stupid and more than a little crazy, like I walked out of some cheesy rom-com, but I didn't care. "My angel has a name", I thought. "And her name is Selene."

Heh. Angel. It wasn't long before I realised how wrong that was.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry this has taken so damn long. This story has always been in the back of my mind but I was really stuck on too many specifics. Every time I'd sit down to write it I'd get bogged down trying to detail and explain every passing moment until I remembered recently that I could gloss over the unimportant stuff._

_I've tried to keep to the same tone I started with but I think Heather comes across much darker in this chapter. Not that it's a bad thing, nor does it really worry me, I just hope it's not too jarring a change from the other chapters._

_Finally, it was pointed out to me a LONG time ago that I messed up a few things in the last chapter. Once I figure out how to edit a chapter ill go back and fix those issues._

_Thanks to proudhon-has-a-posse for the beta_

* * *

It was a few days (or nights, I should say) before I saw her again.

I won't go into details of how I passed the days and cleaned myself up. I've been on the streets before in my teen years - running from the latest asshole foster father, and one mother. Shit that bitch was crazy! - before I hooked up with a drifter for a while. You learn quickly how to spot an opportunity for a bed or a meal. Funny how it can seem like all your past experiences were teaching you the skills you need for the present.

I don't think I even had a plan for what to do or say when I found her. Didn't seem to matter. The feelings I was having, this strange obsession, was no less powerful by the cold light of day. Part of me tried to rationalise it - I kept telling myself I just needed some answers, or I had to repay her somehow, but I knew I was lying to myself.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not some lovesick virgin. I'm no stranger to desire, and sex, or even how to wield it like a tool or weapon. Hell, after the shit I went through growing up, my body was the only thing I had that didn't betray me. While I knew I wasn't a supermodel or anything, I knew how to work what I had, make it my best defence. Everyone always underestimated what I was capable of.

But I never felt a need like this before. There was always an element of calculation in my hook-ups in the past, something to gain by pleasing them in just the right way. The bait and hook which caught them for whatever it was I needed.

Yes, I know I have trust issues. Shut the hell up.

But this was different._ She_, was different. I_ wanted_ her. More than I wanted anything - or anyone - before in my life. And it wasn't just sex. I wanted to possess her, and to be possessed by her. To be her everything like she was becoming mine.

Ugh, I'm waxing lyrical again, sorry. I can't help it. She ties my brain up in knots.

Anyway, so I waited outside that damn tower like an idiot for three nights running before she finally showed up. By then I was such a mess of nerves and pent up energy I felt like I was about to explode. Time seemed distorted, there were moments I'd blink and hours would pass, and others were like seconds became hours, and hours became days...

So then this dingy, fucked up yellow cab scuttles up, and I remember thinking "No way she's in _there_." I'm not sure if I'd just built her up in my head as some kind of goddess or something, but what I remembered of her seemed like she would cruise up in a limo, stepping out to crowds of paparazzi and groupies (of which I told myself I definitely was_ not_. Heh. Deluded.)

But there she was, stepping out of that ugly old thing like some kind of butterfly. The moment stretched, my fucked up brain and swirling emotions distorting my perception of time again. She rose up on stiletto boots and long leather clad legs, her coat unfurling behind her(some high fashion feathery thing more about style and statement than function) were her wings, drying and expanding by moonlight instead of the sun. She strode with purpose, eyes on the tower doors, and didn't dip them in my direction by the curb. She was almost past me before I broke out of my daze. A dry voice in my head (the one that likes to sardonically point out every time I fuck up) snapped "Go get her you idiot!" and I leapt up into her path.

And promptly forgot everything I was going to say.

I just gaped at her, deer in the headlights. Her eyes registered the briefest surprise at first, then there was recognition, and my heart soared. She remembered me! I started to smile, but then her eyes grew sad and regretful, the same as I remembered from the final moments of our first brief meeting. She was going to leave, walk on by and just keep on going, leaving me and all my questions and desperate need in a mess on the curb.

I can't remember what I said, only that it came out in a river. The dam had burst, and all the secrets came out, all that I felt since I saw her. I was _never_ that honest. _Ever_. Not even with that one shrink I had last year. But she just stood there, stoic in my torrent of words, and I grew desperate.

I pulled out the ring I found the day before. I remembered I picked it up and I thought it reminded me of her eyes, that sort of cold light that was beautiful and dangerous at once. As I held it out to her though, it looked like so much tin, some cheap piece of crap she'd not even deign to touch, let alone wear. But she took it, all the while with that same, sad sorrow on her face.

I had to do more. I had to _say_ the right thing. Something. Anything to get that look off her face, to get her to talk to me and tell me it was OK, she would take me in and love me too. I threw my dignity to the wind and begged, practically down on my knees kissing her feet level, and said I would do_ anything_ for her.

And there it was. My hook.

She masked it quickly, but I saw it. If there's one thing I do well, it's read peoples desires, and she telegraphed hers to me in that instant.

So she was one of those, was she? She likes them submissive, on their knees before her begging for release. The perfect picture of obedience and control. Probably liked to think of herself as a protector, or saviour, something I probably should have figured out before, given how we met. Her childhood was probably as fucked as mine if that's what she needed to get off. But I'll admit, the idea had a lot of appeal, looking up along her body from below, those eyes searching mine for the tiniest hint of defiance. Holding me trapped by her gaze as I kissed my way up her leather clad legs to…

Ahem.

I tried to mask my own smugness. I had her, even if she didn't know it yet. She might have even said something but I didn't hear it over my own victory anthem parading in my ears. I told her I'd meet her back at her place, that I'd prove my worth to her _some_how. I tried not to make it too suggestive though, she had to think I was completely innocent.

Well, maybe not _completely_ innocent.

Now it was her turn for the deer in the headlights look. She didn't know what happened, one minute she was controlling the situation, and the next I'd pulled the rug from her argument by not taking no for an answer. I walked away with confidence, feeling her eyes on me even as I got to the nearby bus stop to wait. Then she seemed to remember what she was there to do, and entered that ugly imposing tower.

I did a tiny victory dance after she was gone. Everything went better than expected. I'd wait a few hours till she was done with whatever she was doing, then she'd come back and we'd talk and we'd fuck and we'd tell each other all our secrets and she'd do _whatever_ it was she did again and nothing else in the world was going to matter.

...Too much saccharine, right?

Maybe I was a little bit innocent.


End file.
